


You Can't Resign from a Pack

by tryslora



Series: All Our Yesterdays [20]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: fullmoon_ficlet, Implied Polyamorous Relationship, Implied Relationships, M/M, Multi, Past Divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can’t resign from a pack; everyone comes home eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can't Resign from a Pack

**Author's Note:**

> This is unedited, unbetaed, uneverything (and likely riddled with errors). Took a departure from the usual style for this series because I knew no one was going to talk about it, and this was a different view of Resignation (prompt 49 at fullmoon_ficlet) than I usually think about writing. This works on its own, I think, or you can read the rest of All Our Yesterdays. As always, I do not own the world or characters of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them.

“You can’t _resign_ from being in a pack.”

Isaac smiled tightly, lips thin. Even more than usual, his expression seemed to be carved from marble, all cold, worn edges and angles. “I can, Stiles. And I did. Is there a reason why you’re sitting here watching me pack?”

“Because I refuse to help.” Stiles crossed his arms. “And I think you should stop. We’re _bleeding_ pack members, here.”

Isaac paused, sweater neatly folded in his hands, held just above the suitcase. One eyebrow arched high. “Do you really want to go there, Stiles? Because I’m not the one who pushed your husband out. That was entirely your doing.”

“ _His_ doing,” Stiles spit out, because that wasn’t the topic of discussion here. “He’s the one who cheated. And the situation is entirely different. You’re walking out on us, Isaac, when we’re already weak enough that we have to go looking for allies elsewhere.”

He couldn’t miss the way Isaac’s jaw goes tight, the muscle flaring slightly. He couldn’t miss the flash of yellow in Isaac’s eyes, or the way he refused to look at Stiles. “I won’t be missed,” he said tightly. “I’m not what this pack needs. Scott and Derek have made that obvious, and I’ve heard you say it before: the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

Stiles knew there was something important that he was missing. He suspected there was a reason that Isaac had come to him (for all that he was in Isaac’s room, he’d been drawn there by clues the werewolf had left him).  But he couldn’t figure out what it was back then, couldn’t understand the words unsaid. “Is this about Allison?”

Isaac laughed, the sound dry and harsh as he shook his head. “No. It’s not about Allison. She and Scott are perfect, that’s fine. Caleb’s a good kid. This’ll be a strong pack, I’m sure, when Derek finds someone to pop out the pups. You just don’t need _me_ in it.”

Stiles had no idea what to say. He’d never been close to Isaac, and he hated being the person stuck in this position of last ditch effort to keep Isaac with them, a part of the McCall-Hale pack. So he said nothing while Isaac closed the suitcase and walked out the door.

#

When Isaac appeared on Scott’s doorstep eight years to the day after he left, no one said a word. No one asked about the infant that he carries, no one asked about her mother. Stiles simply opened his house at Scott’s instruction and let Isaac stay until Athene and Derek insisted that he move into the Hale house as a part of the pack.

Stiles was surprised that no one mentioned to Athene that Isaac was one of Derek’s first betas. But if no one else was going to mention how well Isaac fit in as a supposed stranger, he wasn’t going to say it either. It wasn’t his business, even if he did try to figure out what he missed eight years before.

It didn’t take long for Isaac to find his place in the pack, taking care of Derek’s two daughters and being there for the birth of his third. Athene accepted him, and Stiles tried not to question what he was seeing right there in front of him in Derek’s obvious affection for his beta.

No one talked about it; no one would risk upsetting what seemed to be a delicate balance, and Derek didn’t invite intrusions into his private life.

As long as the pack was stronger for it, no one cared what really was going on, and Stiles tried not to let his mind travel down the pathways that Isaac’s return inspired. That way lay madness, and he couldn’t let himself go there.

#

When Stiles leans against the wall, he can hear their conversation clearly through the door. Jackson pokes at things in ways that no one else does, something that only he and Lydia ever tried to do, or got away with. In their absence, there has been a sense of stability. Status quo. But Jackson could upset it all so easily, with one misplaced question, or one poke that pushed any of the pack too far.

Stiles tilts his head back, eyes closed, and breathes in deeply. He’ll interrupt before it goes too far. He’ll keep everything even, and he’ll make sure Jackson understands the rules.

He needs to understand the rules, now that he’s back.

He makes his entrance into the room in a flurry of arms and legs, falling in as if his interruption is completely unscripted. Words come out of his mouth that have nothing to do with his thoughts, nothing to do with the way he feels punched in the gut to see Jackson sitting there next to Isaac on the sofa.

The prodigal werewolves have come home.

Stiles was right, all those years ago. You can’t _resign_ from being part of a pack. Something will bring you back, because this is home. This is where they belong. As his hand slides from Jackson’s elbow to let their fingers tangle together, and he pulls him from the room, it feels disturbingly, annoyingly, _right_.

Stiles doesn’t know what to do with that yet, so he does nothing. They have bigger fish to fry, anyway. Everything else can wait.


End file.
